Connection
by RedRoses18
Summary: Booth is haunted by dreams which portray Brennan gasping for her life. The dreams slowly take over his mind and threaten their partnership. Tragically, there is a fine line between imagination and premonition.
1. Chapter 1

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Prologue  
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Connection. Some say that when you are so close to someone, so emotionally in tune, you feel when something is not right. Like a Mother who feels a pang of loss as her Son falls in a war so far away. Like kissing someone goodbye when you know it will be the last time your ragged breaths will mingle.

Sometimes, it's not so simple. Perhaps it's an intriguing glance, or a series of events that make you feel an ominous pressure gripping your consciousness. You will live and breathe this premonition and await the day that your loved one shall fall. But is it your imagination; just some sort of over-protectiveness that will drive your love away? 

Tragically, there is a fine line between imagination and premonition.

**Chapter One**

Temperance Brennan thrashed against the glass door. Her white arms beat against the thick transparent barrier as if her life depended on it. Blood streamed down her arms and smeared against the cool glass, clouding her appearance on the other side. He could tell by her lips that she was screaming his name over and over again.

Her partner was on the other side of the glass and watched numbly as the paralysis of his fear overtook him. He tried to move his hands and feet, but found them bound together by unforgiving orange twine. It was the look in her eyes, the sheer panic that scared him the most. She was screaming, screaming…

Seeley Booth awoke in a cold sweat. He sat up in bed immediately and leaned his head against the wall as his breathing began to even out. Stray lines of moonlight leaked through the curtains and highlighted his muscular torso as he breathed in and out, in and out. He wiped the sweat from his brow and rationalized with himself, knowing that his partner was in no danger, and it was just a nightmare.

It was just a dream. He had been telling himself that for the past two weeks as he awoke every night after the same horrific nightmare. He let his body slowly sink back down into the bed as his heavy head made its way from the wall down to the pillow. Rolling over, the blaring digital numbers of his bedside clock read 2:56AM. He let the numbers lull him into a restless, shallow slumber.

* * *

Resisting a nearly overwhelming urge to drop by the Jeffersonian the next morning, Booth instead found himself riding the elevator in the Hoover Building. Besides, he had no reason to be at the lab this morning, other than the borderline compulsive need to make sure she was okay. 

_Which she is_ Booth thought to himself.

Making his way to his office, Booth hardly made notice of the curious looks he was getting from his coworkers. As he walked past the shiny elevator doors, he could see why; his suit was uncharacteristically ruffled and his buttons were done up the wrong way. Booth's normally clean shaven skin was dotted with stubble – a result of oversleeping his alarm and running out the door in a panic earlier that morning.

Booth ran a hand through his short cropped hair and unenthusiastically grabbed a Styrofoam cup off the refreshment table in the break room. He filled it up with stale black coffee and downed it in one big gulp. He winced and dropped the cup in the trash can. _I am going to get through this day_… he thought to himself, trying to shake the nagging feeling of dread in the back of his mind.

Sitting at his desk hours later, Booth could feel his eyelids begin to droop. He was trying to justify taking a quick nap right there in his office, when a sharp knock came to his closed door.

His eyes automatically popped open and he cleared his throat quietly. "Come in." he called politely, picking up a pen and pretending to work.

"Agent Booth." Deputy Director Cullen greeted as he entered the office.

"Good morning, sir." Booth replied, immediately straightening up in his chair and motioning for Cullen to take a seat in the deceptively comfortable chair across from his own.

"Booth I'm just here to congratulate you on another successful case, you and Dr. Brennan make quite the team." Cullen said with a curt nod.

"Thank you, sir."

"Unfortunately, that's not the reason why I'm here. Glancing through the case notes of the infiltration, it came to my attention that yet again Dr. Brennan had been placed in unnecessary danger –"

"But sir, she insisted –" Booth began, but was silenced by a hand motion from Cullen.

"I don't care if she got down on her knees and begged. I'm telling you that you have to remember that she is _not_ an agent. She is your responsibility, Agent Booth, and you need to remember that." Cullen continued.

"With all due respect, sir, I would never put Bon—Dr. Brennan in a situation where I felt I could not protect her. I'd give my life –"

"Agent Booth, I am not looking for an explanation, nor do I want one. Just don't let this sort of carelessness happen again." Cullen said as he rose from his chair and moved toward the door. Booth heard the door click as Cullen exited the room, and he leaned back in his chair. Booth rubbed his eyes and stared up at the ceiling.

_Responsibility.  
__Responsibility.  
__Responsibility._

If only Cullen knew.

* * *

Booth parked his car in the underground garage at the Jeffersonian and made his way to the door. Before heading into the lab, he stopped into the washroom to make himself look more presentable. He turned the cold water on full blast and splashed his face with it several times. Tearing away a generous piece of brown paper towel from its holder, he dried his face with the rough material and turned off the water faucet. 

Taking a few steps back from the mirror he flashed a few different charm smiles and winked at himself. _Oh yeah. Booth's back, baby_, he reassured himself.

* * *

"Booth, you look like crap." Angela said as he made his way up the steps to the forensic platform. 

"Thanks, Ange." Booth said sarcastically, reassuring himself that his washroom makeover was a valiant effort.

"You didn't sleep last night" came a familiar voice from behind him. Booth turned around quickly to see Brennan walk out of her office and closer toward her co-workers. Booth took note of her uncanny ability to judge his persona, yet still be completely engrossed in the file folder opened up in front of her as she walked.Brennan took his silence as an agreement to her comment, but decided that she'd drop the subject. "Do we have a case?" she asked, handing the file folder to Zach who grabbed it out of her hands like an over-eager child on Christmas morning.

"We have a case." He confirmed, trying to plaster on a friendly smile, which looked more like a wince. Brennan turned on a heel and went to grab her coat and kit, and Booth and Angela were left standing at the platform.

Booth's eyes were concentrated on the ground where Brennan had just stood, but immediately he refocused his attention when he felt Angela's stare burn into him.

She was squinting carefully at him, as if trying to decode him like a puzzle.

"What?" he asked innocently as he made his way down the platform.Angela shook her head and watched as the two partners exited the lab together, the sound of Brennan's peppering questions fading as they walked further and further away.

* * *

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan, right this way." The attending officer said as the partners walked up the lawn toward the crime scene. 

Booth understood Brennan's silence to simply be concentration as she walked carefully ahead of him and into the house. She looked around, gazing at every detail before following the officer in the direction of the remains.

"Bones, go with Officer Cortez, I'll be there in a minute." Booth said as he lingered outside the house, nearly sure that another SUV had been tailing them to the site.

He walked outside onto the sun-baked brown lawn and slowly took off his sunglasses as he peered up and down the road. Satisfied that the SUV was nowhere in sight, Booth shrugged and re-entered the house.

The home smelled unmistakably of decomposing flesh which Booth had, morbidly enough, become nearly accustomed to in this new branch of his job. Hearing the oddly comforting sound of Brennan ordering poor Officer Cortez around, Booth grinned and walked toward the sound which was coming from the master suite.

There were many officers in the bedroom collecting prints, but Brennan's position in the bathroom led him to deduce the location of the remains. Turning his head toward the bathroom door, Booth stopped dead in his tracks.

The glass door in front of him was the exact one from his dream the night before.

This was the very room where he was tied up, watching Brennan scream his name and beat her bleeding arms against in utter urgency. Booth's throat went dry and his vision blurred slightly. He could hear her voice again… screaming…

"Booth!" Brennan called for the third time. "Get over here – don't you usually take notes or something?" she demanded with one hand on her hip, the other ominously hidden in the bathtub.

Booth quickly snapped back into reality and entered the bathroom. He looked over at Officer Cortez who was sweating, clearly exasperated by the anthropologist, and Booth shot him an apologetic look.

"The victim is female," Brennan said in a professional tone, "growth suggests late twenties, early thirties. All phalanges are fractured; the angles suggest they were defensive wounds."

"How long has she been here?" Booth said automatically, wanting to get Brennan out of this room as fast as he could. There was something about this house that was not right.

"Between 6-8 months, maybe more." Brennan said with a frown, looking up at Booth. "Booth the rest of the house seems lived in, that means someone must have known she was here the whole time."

Booth didn't answer her, instead peered further over the tub and observed the abandoned remains in front of him. His jaw tightened immediately and he put his notebook away."You done here?" he asked Brennan curtly.

She stood up from her crouched position and took one more look at the remains."Yes. I need the entire tub brought to my lab so I can work on the bones."

"And I'll get the house searched clean. We're going to find the son of a bitch who left her here." Booth said as he led Brennan out of the bathroom, a shuddering feeling coming over him as they both passed through that glass door.

* * *

Just under an hour later, the partners were stopped at a red light just minutes away from the Jeffersonian. They had mainly been in amicable silence since they left the house, and Brennan continued to scribble notes to preface her preliminary report. 

"So Bones…" Booth started as he adjusted his large sunglasses and sat back comfortably in his seat. "What did you think about that house?"

Brennan looked over at Booth and shot him a confused look. "It was a… crime scene. Though disturbing that the home is still lived in after the body's been there for so long, it's no different from other homes we've investigated." She replied slowly, thinking over her recollection of the house.

"Yeah that's true. Anything else though?" Booth prodded, trying to see if she felt the same sense of eeriness that the house had evoked in him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She shook her head.

"Yeah me neither. I just had a bad feeling about it, that's all."

"Like a gut feeling?" She inquired; trying to understand where he was coming from.

"Maybe. Do you think you've ever been there before? To the house, I mean."

"Never. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. It just reminds me of somewhere…" Booth's comment drifted off and he failed to finish his sentence.

Brennan watched the scenery fly past them as they continued to drive to the lab. Angela wasn't the only one who'd noticed Booth's strange behavior today; Brennan could sense that something wasn't quite right. He had said that he was tired, but she couldn't help but think there was something more.Watching him now, more relaxed than before, with one arm resting against the window edge and the other lazily steering the car, Brennan thought that she should drop the subject for now. After all, whenever she was tired or despondent he usually knew to let her have her privacy.

After all, partners should know when something is wrong.

Booth knew this more than anyone.

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TBC! Please let me know what you think:)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Thank you so much to everyone who is read this! Your feedback really means a lot to me, and I hope you like this next chapter! Special thanks goes to _mecedeme_, _missbrat155, __mumrulz, __ShipperCrazed__ - __FanFicCrazy, __Lifeguard, __BandBelong, __KristieM, __TemperTemper, __aranel25_, and _bb-4ever_ for reviewing!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bones, just this storyline! (That applies to the first chapter too!)

**CHAPTER TWO**

Temperance thanked Booth for the ride and shut the car door firmly behind her. She made her way to her usual entrance to the lab, and couldn't help but sense Booth watch her; she could feel his eyes burning into her back. She should have been irked by this behavior, but she smirked slightly at the close attention he paid to her.

Without turning around to look at him, Brennan lifted one arm to wave at him while the other reached for the door handle. Just as she opened that door, she heard the familiar sound of his SUV's engine start up. She took one last look at Booth drive away before stepping into the Jeffersonian.

"Bren, what took you so long?" Angela asked as she laid her sketchpad down on the table beside the forensic gurney.

"We got caught in traffic. It's just after 5." Brennan replied as she headed past Angela toward her office to drop off her kit.

Angela followed her inside and sat down on the familiar brown couch in the office. Brennan sighed tiredly as she sat at her desk and opened up her email inbox. She began to sort through the messages and was so consumed in the task that she barely heard Angela.

"Did you even hear what I said?" Angela asked, a smirk of amusement spreading over her delicate features.

Brennan glanced up from the screen and mirrored a muted version of Angela's smile. "Sorry, no."

"I asked how Booth seemed to you today."

"He seemed distracted, but I would assume he is just tired." Brennan speculated, choosing her words carefully. "Why? Did he say something?" she continued as she searched her desk drawer for a file folder.

"Nope, he just didn't seem himself when I saw him today. But you're probably right, he's just tired. Speaking of tired, when do you think I'll convince you to get out of the lab tonight?" Angela asked, quirking her eyebrows up suggestively.

"Well, it's still quite early and the remains from the scene today are supposed to arrive in an hour or so. I'd like to get the preliminary exam done before I see Booth again tomorrow."

Angela let out an exaggerated sigh. "Alright fine, maybe some other night we'll cut out early. I think I'll go get us some dinner, I'm starving."

Brennan smiled up distractedly as Angela left the room. _This is going to be a long night..._ she thought to herself as she glanced over the copious paperwork on her desk and settled into her chair.

* * *

Three hours later, Brennan gazed over the forensic gurney at the remains. The agents had brought the tub in hours earlier and helped to transfer what was left of the body out of the tub and up onto the platform. The tub was still crucial to the investigation, so it was left untouched beside the platform.

Now relatively alone in the lab, Brennan reached for her Dictaphone and began a cursory examination of the woman's remains. Her voice echoed through the empty halls, mixing only with the beeps of the equipment around her. This is the way Temperance Brennan liked to work; quiet, alone, and uninterrupted.

When finished, she sighed as she looked over the remains. This poor woman had truly suffered before her death, the injuries depicted that fact clearly. What bothered her even more was that the victim had sat in that tub for months, with no one raising any questions.

Brennan frowned and stepped away from the platform, slowly peeling off her gloves. It was time for her to go home. Maybe, just maybe, she would get some sleep.

* * *

Her muffled screams were all he could hear from across the glass divider. A man slowly walked up behind her and began to trace a knife up and down her arms, taunting her. He knew she wanted to fight back, but seeing that knife in his hand made resistance futile. The man pressed the knife harder into her skin, drawing a sickly line of blood along her newly bruised arm. She wrenched herself from his reach, inadvertently smearing her blood along the glass.

The man grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back toward him. Her neck was bent backward and she tearfully panted as the knife gently caressed her collar bone, making its way upwards.

All her partner could see were her legs slamming against the door, her boots drawing lines in the blood just as a child would write their name in the sand. Booth, too, was screaming at this point as the twine dug further into his wrists.

Cullen stepped around the corner and walked calmly into the bedroom. Booth looked up at him unbelievingly and screamed at him to do something. However, as Cullen walked into the light Booth saw that it wasn't really his boss at all. This man's eyes were unnaturally black and beady, and his expression was completely blank. Kneeling down in front of Booth, he whispered into his ear.

"You should have protected her."

It was then that the sound of Brennan's legs thrashing against the glass stopped. The room was left in deathly silence and broken only by the strangled, broken sob that came from her partner.

Booth jolted up in his bed, gasping for breath. His body was covered in a cold sweat and his throat felt painfully dry and scratchy. Regaining his composure, Booth let out a string of curses and whipped the blankets off of his body.

The room was lit only by a stray beam of light that seeped through the curtains, as well as the taunting red numbers on his bedside clock. 2:56 AM it read; the exact same time that he always seemed to wake up.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he muttered to himself as he reached for a ruddy t-shirt that he tugged over his body.

Booth knew he didn't want to be anywhere near his bed right now, so he stood up and quickly put on his gym shorts. He needed to clear his head, and they best way he knew how to do that was to run.

Booth locked the door behind him and tucked his house key into his pocket. Normally Booth would never go for a run without his iPod blaring in his ears, but right now he wanted nothing more than the early morning darkness to be his companion.

His feet slammed rhythmically against the pavement one after the other and he kept his eyes straight on the sidewalk ahead of him. His warm and even breaths spurted tiny clouds of fog into the crisp autumn air. Though it was cool out, the burn from his hard working muscles heated him up. Besides, the only thing Booth was focused on was the events of his recurring nightmare.Should he speak to Dr. Wyatt? Should he confront Bones about it? He knew that both of those options were useless. Wyatt would probably say it had something to do with his emotional attachment to his partner and his obsession with her safety, and Brennan would stare at him awkwardly unsure of what to say.

No, Booth had to deal with this himself. He was convinced this had to be more than a nightmare, it seemed so real. Booth knew that protecting Brennan was not just a part of his job, it wasn't even a simple responsibility either. Ensuring her safety kept them both alive, for if his nightmare ever became a reality he knew neither of them would ever recover.

* * *

"Good morning!" Angela greeted cheerfully as she headed up the steps to the platform in the Jeffersonian. Hodgins followed behind her and gently kissed her cheek before retreating to his station."I've had better." Brennan responded without looking up from the remains."Sweetie, how long have you been here?" Angela asked pointedly as she tugged her lab coat over her sleek black blouse.

"It doesn't matter. I couldn't sleep." She replied distractedly. "There are numerous bone fragments missing from both of the hands. Zach and I have searched the tub twice, but they're nowhere to be found."

"My guess is that they dripped down the drain with the bodily fluids as the victim began to decompose." Zach piped up from behind the tub.

Angela made a disgusted face and glanced over at the tub. "I really have to start skipping breakfast when I decide to come in to work so early." She muttered and gave a sympathetic glance at Brennan.

Brennan backed away from the examination table and removed her gloves. "I'm going to go call Booth. We need to go back to the house and get a segment of the pipes. Then we'll be able to determine the full extent of the defensive wounds and maybe even a murder weapon."

Her modest heeled shoes clicking against the cold floor of the lab, Brennan made her way to the phone in her office. She hit the speed dial button for Booth, and he finally picked up on the fourth ring.

"Booth." He answered, his voice sounding very unusual to Brennan.

"It's me, I did a cursory examination of the remains last night but this morning I determined –"

"Bones I need to call you back. This really isn't a good time."

"But I just need to –"

"You're all okay, right?" Booth asked.

Brennan hesitated for a moment, for she had no clue what that had to do with the task at hand. "We're fine, Booth. Why do you ask?"

"No reason, look I'm running late again this morning. I won't be able to get to the lab till this afternoon. I'm sorry, I'm not dismissing you, it's just that –"

"It's alright Booth, I get it. I'll see you later today."

"Bye Bones."

Brennan was left with the dial tone ringing into her right ear. She laid the phone back neatly in the cradle, and then went to the cabinet for her kit. There was no reason to hold up the investigation just to have Booth to stand next to her at the scene, she could retrieve the pipe herself.

Brennan exited her office a few moments later, kit in hand, and waved up to the examination platform. "Bren, where are you going? Where's Booth?" Angela asked, eyeing her kit suspiciously.

"Booth's busy right now. I just have to drive over to the scene and ensure that the proper pieces of pipe are retrieved."

"But why can't you just call and ask for the agents to bring it over?"

"I need to be there, Ange. I know exactly what I'm looking for, and I don't want to lose any bone fragments that could be crucial to finding what happened to this poor woman." Brennan called over her shoulder, not breaking her pace.

"Just be careful!" Angela called after Brennan, but she was already gone.

Angela let out an exaggerated sigh and looked up to see Zach peering at her curiously. Angela held up her hands in defeat and retreated to her office. She knew that Brennan would never purposefully put herself in danger, but Angela sure as hell didn't want to be the one to tell Booth where Brennan had gone without him.

* * *

**TBC! I have the next chapter finished so I'll post it soon if you review!  
And it's not what you think... I just like messing with Booth's head... ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, and to everyone who is reading this story. I'm having a blast writing it, and there'll be very quick updates. Please let me know what you think of this chapter; this chapter is shorter, but important for the next one!  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bones, even though I wish I did. I have this storyline though!

**Previously:** _Angela held up her hands in defeat and retreated to her office. She knew that Brennan would never purposefully put __herself__ in danger, but Angela sure as hell didn't want to be the one to tell Booth where Brennan had gone without him_

**CHAPTER THREE**

"Alright, now I want you to lay each fragment out here. Be very level, I don't want the evidence to be compromised." Brennan instructed as she lead the two agents carrying the pipe fragments into the Jeffersonian. She scrutinized silently from a short distance as the pipes were transported from the evidence package onto the table.

It had taken nearly three hours of hard work, but Brennan had successfully managed to identify the additional bone fragments in the metal piping in the bathroom. The agents at the scene had immediately recognized her and complied with her bossy tendencies; they were all pretty sure Booth would kick their asses if they didn't.

Once all of the tubes had been laid out, Brennan thanked the agents curtly and proceeded to snap on her latex gloves. Zach nodded at her from across the lab and also immediately sprang into action, nearly tripping up the stairs in anticipation of what they might find in the tubes.

"This is exactly what we're looking for." Zach said monotonically as he peered into the grimy tube to find small fragments of bone lodged inside.

"I concur. We need to start by taking multiple samples from each tube to identify the extraneous matter – call Hodgins." Brennan said as she retrieved the sample swabs.

Zach nodded and glanced at the tubes one more time. "Nice work, Dr. Brennan." He said before stepping down to find Hodgins.

Brennan glanced up and smiled genuinely at his acknowledgement of what she'd just done. "Thanks, Zach."

* * *

Completely engrossed in her work, Brennan barely heard the first time he shouted her name. However, it seemed everyone else in the Jeffersonian forensic lab did.

"Bones!" Booth shouted from all the way across the lab.

Brennan blinked and stood up to see him more clearly. When she did, she could feel her eyes widen slightly at the sight of him.

Booth's normally clean shaven face was pale with dark stubble taking over the entire lower half. Even from across the lab Brennan could see the dark circles under his usually lively eyes, which were currently full of anger. Both his hair and suit were ruffled and he walked with the fervor of a madman. He was exhausted, he was worried, and he was angry.

It took Brennan a moment to regain her composure. "Booth, what's the matter?" she asked worriedly, seeing Angela's gaping expression in her peripheral vision.

"What's the matter?" he asked incredulously. "What the hell possessed you to go out in the field yourself? Why didn't you wait for me?" he asked as he walked nearer and nearer.

"You were busy, Booth. I wasn't in any danger, I just needed –"

"That's not how it works, damn it! You're not an agent, you can't just go skipping off to crime scenes unprotected." He yelled as his tired eyes flared with emphasis.

"Booth, relax –" Brennan began, but he cut her off.

"I had to hear it from Cullen that you were over there. You're _my_ responsibility, damn it!"

Angela winced at Booth's words to Brennan, knowing that what he said was definitely not what she needed to hear. The entire lab had fallen silent and people watched the conflict escalate.

"Let's get one thing straight, I'm not your responsibility. I thought I was doing you a favor."

"I can't believe…. I can't believe you went back to that _house_!" he said exasperatedly, sputtering out the last word with unusual emphasis.

"What's up with you and that house, Booth. What aren't you telling me?" Brennan demanded, drawing closer and closer to his face. She could almost feel his breath on her face, and she watched with fascination at the flood of emotions that flashed over his face as she asked that question.

Booth didn't reply, he just stared at her blankly. Brennan couldn't help but feel worried for her partner, but at the same time she was furious at him for making such a scene in the lab. She knew that this quarrel would get everyone talking.

Without taking her eyes off Booth, she ordered Zach to clean the bone fragments and call her when he was finished. Brennan silently turned and walked away from Booth and toward her office.

"Get back to work!" she called behind her to everyone who was staring at her curiously.

Back on the examination platform, Booth watched Brennan's office door slam. He smacked his fist against one of the desks out of anger and swore bitterly.

He turned to see Angela staring at him pointedly with her arms crossed. "Oh, save it." He muttered to her as he stormed out of the lab the same way he came.

Booth had really messed up. Now, not only had he angered the person who had haunted all of his dreams, but he knew his behavior was unacceptable. These nightmares were ruining both his life and his partnership, and he knew that the dreams weren't going to stop anytime soon.

* * *

_What do you think? Poor Boothy-boo...  
I know it's shorter, but the next chapter is longer and should be up before the weekend:)_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Oh guys your reviews mean so much to me! Thank you so much for reading this, and I really hope you like this chapter as much as I liked writing it!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bones, just this storyline :)

**Previously**: _Booth had really messed up. Now, not only had he angered the person who had haunted all of his dreams, but he knew his behavior was unacceptable._

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Booth knew that there was no way he would get any work done if he went back to the Hoover Building. He also knew that phoning in sick was about the lamest excuse in the book, but all he wanted to do right now was be alone. So, reaching for his cell phone he explained to the receptionist his 'migraine' and mindlessly drove home.

Booth swung open his front door and unceremoniously tossed his keys onto the side table beside it. Shrugging off his jacket, he went to scout out the alcohol content of his fridge for something that might calm himself down. Resisting the urge to grab something stronger, Booth snatched a single beer out of the fridge and sat with his head in his hands at his kitchen table.

The nightmares had been going on for two weeks now, and their detrimental affects had certainly taken their toll. However, today was the first day that they really affected anyone other than himself. Trying to come to grips with his behavior, Booth still couldn't shake the nauseous feeling he got when he realized that Brennan had gone back to the crime scene unaccompanied. If anything had gone wrong he felt it would have been his own fault, after all he was the one who claimed to be 'too busy' to even hear what she had to say on the phone that morning.

Booth knew he should call Brennan to apologize, but he couldn't bear to pick up the phone and hear her voice in his ear. Not when her screams from his dream were already still coursing through his mind.

For the next few hours, Booth paced around the kitchen and living room and planned what his conversation with Dr. Wyatt would sound like. Would he be put on medication? Banned from field work? God forbid he would be reassigned a new partner. No, that he definitely would not be able to handle. He glanced out the window to see that the sun was nearly set and darkness was falling once again.

All of a sudden, Booth felt a constricting feeling grasp his chest. Like a deathly hug, his lungs tightened at the thought of having to face that same nightmare again tonight. He had gone so far as to set multiple alarm clocks so his body would never his REM sleep, but even that plan may not work.

Instead, Booth changed back into his trusty work-out clothes and hit the pavement again to go for another run.

Booth jogged for nearly a half an hour before he reached a park bench near a bus stop. He slowed his pace and slowly sat down on the bench. Normally, physical exertion would calm his nerves, though this evening it seemed that nothing could help.

It was starting to get much darker outside, and all of the children in the neighborhood had long since gone inside for supper. So Booth sat there, alone, cold, and lost in his racing mind.

Two headlights shone on Booth a few moments later, which finally forced him to look up and snap out of his nearly catatonic state. The car pulled over a few feet away from Booth, and though the driver had turned off the vehicle, Booth was still unable to identify the driver because his eyes had become so accustomed to the headlights.

He heard the car door open and close, and then a familiar figure walked toward him."Angela." Booth said, his voice scratchy from lack of communication over the past few hours.

"Booth, what are you doing out here?" Angela asked, her body language still rather tense from the day, though her eyes held a sense of worry for his well being.

"I'm sorry about today." Booth said, avoiding her question. Angela uncrossed her arms and let out a long sigh. She walked closer to him and sat down beside him on the bench. Booth was grateful for the company, and knew that perhaps he'd found a better alternative than talking to Dr. Wyatt.

"I know, Booth" Angela said genuinely, pulling her coat around her more tightly to protect her body heat from the biting bitter breeze.

"How mad is she?" Booth asked quietly, studying his hands as if they held the answers to all of his problems.

"She was angry, but I think Bren is just worried about you. We all are, actually." Angela said, and noticed how Booth still refused to look at her. "Booth you should see yourself right now, something's not right. You can tell me what's wrong." She said softly.

Booth was silent for a moment, and then took a deep breath. "I'm just worried about Bones." He said finally."What do you mean?" Angela said gently, trying to get him to open up a bit more. If there was something about Brennan that was worrying Booth so much, she definitely needed to know what it was.

Booth cleared his throat. It was now or never, he supposed. "I've been having dreams. Nightmares, really." He said quietly.

Angela pursued her lips thoughtfully and nodded her head, "How long?" "Two weeks, maybe more. She's in danger… screaming…" Booth took in a wavering breath and shook his head. "I know it's irrational, but it just seems so real."

Booth looked over at Angela's thoughtful expression. He knew that she understood this, because he also knew that she worried about Brennan as well. Keeping this in mind, he kept talking."The crime scene, the house she went to today, it's the same one from my dream. Ange, it's exactly the same."

Angela was silent for a few minutes and they both watched the nearly empty road in front of them. A lady walked past with two small dogs, and a middle aged man rode past on his bicycle – both completely unaware of the two people sitting on the park bench.

Angela finally broke the silence and turned her body slightly to face him. "Booth, I don't necessarily believe in psychics, but I do believe that two people with the same connection that you and Brennan have a sixth sense about things like this. If you feel that something is wrong, then you need to tell her. You need to warn her, Booth." Angela explained.

Booth nodded his head, knowing that she was right. There was no point in ignoring these feelings, since they certainly weren't going away on their own.

"And Booth?" Angela added, resting her hand on his arm comfortingly. "The best way to get through to Bren is not by marching into the lab like a zombie on Red Bull. If you explain it to her, I can guarantee you that she cares for you enough to listen to what you have to say."

Booth's lips turned up into a smirk at her zombie comparison, and he took in a refreshing breath of the cool autumn air. "Thanks, Ange." He said sincerely."

Just promise me you'll talk to her about it. Now, let me drive you home before you freeze." She said as she stood up.

"That sounds really good." Booth agreed as he followed Angela to her car.

It was comforting to Booth that he had found another ally when it came to worrying about Temperance. However, he still knew it was up to only himself to prevent the contents of his twisted dreams to become a reality.

* * *

_What do you think so far? There's more to come soon!_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**: Sorry this one took a bit longer to post! I'm in the midst of midterms, but I couldn't help but write a new chapter for this one! I think this might have been my favourite one to write, and it's longer than the others which is good! I hope you enjoy it!

Thank you for your reviews! You guys are so special!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bones, just this storyline.

**Previously**: _Angela finally broke the silence and turned her body slightly to face him. "Booth, I don't necessarily believe in psychics, but I do believe that two people with the same connection __that you and Brennan have__ a sixth sense about things like this. If you feel that something is wrong, then you need to tell her. You need to warn her, Booth." Angela explained._

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Booth awoke to find himself sprawled on his couch under the unforgiving yellowish beams from the lamp on the coffeetable. He must have just crashed after Angela dropped him off at home, and had discovered a path to slumber after her calming words.

He swore as he glanced over at the clock and realized how late it was. Booth had every intention of phoning Brennan that night, but was now worried that he might not get to speak to her until the morning. Convinced that there was no way he could let that happen, Booth reached for his phone and punched in the only phone number he knew better than his own.

"Brennan." She mumbled into the phone, drowsiness evident in her voice.

"Bones, it's me." Booth said gently, partially regretting this late call. The last thing he wanted to do was irritate her even more.

"I know. I have Caller ID." Brennan stated obviously, causing Booth to grin slightly at her bluntness. "I'm so sorry about today. I'm shouldn't have been so angry, and I'm sorry if I embarrassed you –"

Brennan cut him off with the knowledge that he could continue to apologize for an hour if she didn't stop him. "It's alright Booth. You just need to tell me what's wrong with you." She explained.

"I'm just worried, I guess…" Booth started, deciding to spare Brennan the details of his dreams about her. "About you, I mean."

Brennan was slightly surprised with his answer. She had assumed his distracted attitude and obvious exhaustion had something to do with Parker, so this was unexpected. "Booth, you shouldn't worry about me. Everything's going to be fine." She assured him, struggling to find the right words to put his mind at ease.

"Yeah." Booth said unconvincingly. "Can I maybe meet you at the diner tomorrow morning?" he asked.

"Sure, Booth. Just… get some sleep tonight, alright?" she replied, her tone softening.

Unlikely he thought to himself. "You too. Goodnight Bones." Booth said as he hung up the phone.

He lay back down on the couch and tried to get back to sleep. He gripped the phone near himself, as if Brennan's voice were still talking to him through it and lulling him back into semi-consciousness.

* * *

This night the dream was entirely different. Instead of hearing the desperate slamming of Brennan's hands against the glass door, Booth found himself sitting in the same chair surrounded by the sound of nothing but silence. It was as if the room had nightmarishly elongated, as the door seemed so very far away.

Booth glanced down at his hands and discovered that they were no longer bound to the chair. Instantly, he leapt up and began to run towards the bathroom door which seemed to get further and further away with each step he took.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Booth sprinted as hard as his legs would carry him towards the door, his legs begging to crumple beneath him. He was drawn to that door like a magnet; there was an inherently animalistic surge of passion sent his body careening toward that door.

Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, Booth reached out toward the handle. The blood smeared on the inside of the door created menacing shadows on the ground by his feet, making it seem as if her blood had leaked through.

Bursting through the door, Booth felt bile rush to his mouth and panicked buzzing filled his ears. Blood had spurted in every direction possible, covering the walls, floor and imprinting a vision that would haunt his subconscious. However, his partner was nowhere to be found.

He opened his mouth to call her name, but he was falling into a state of shocked that muted his frantic vocalizations. There was no professionalism left to this FBI agent, he was desperate.

He whirled around the bathroom, nearly slipping in the dark puddle that covered the chipped tile floor. He stopped mid-turn when he saw several strands of glossy auburn hair that had escaped the cold confines of the white bath tub.

Booth leapt towards the tub to find Brennan laying perfectly still, her hands set gently across her chest. Her usually inquisitive eyes were cold, blank, and staring up at him lifelessly. Her lips were parted slightly and her porcelain skin had taken on a deathly pallor – highlighted only by the faint pink smears of blood. On top of her two hands lay a single white daisy which had been untouched by any blood.

Booth crashed to his knees instantly, his body slamming against the tub violently on his way down. He panted frantically, biting back the sobs that began to overwhelm him. His hands reached into the tub and hovered over her body – wanting to touch her, but afraid that touching her might make it seem more real. Suddenly he regained his voice…

_No, no, no, no, no…_

Booth flung the phone across the room as he awoke on the couch. His breathing was ragged and he moaned slightly into the dark room. An alarm clock beeped incessantly on the coffeetable beside him and he swung his arm over violently to silence it. It was 2:56 AM.

Booth had set the clocks earlier that day with the hope that, if he woke up every 3 hours, he would never enter REM sleep; this meant that perhaps he wouldn't dream. Clearly, he was mistaken.

Booth got up off of the couch and walked toward the light switch. He paced back and forth in his living room, becoming torturously accustomed to this awful nocturnal tradition.

This dream had been completely different than all of the others over the past weeks. It was as if things were a lost cause; no matter how hard he ran, he could never get there in time. She was so fragile just laying there… so delicate…

And what did the daisy mean? Being so overwhelmed with the vision of her battered corpse, he nearly forgot that pure little bloom nestled between her lifeless white hands. The centre of that daisy had shown up at him like a light in the darkness, like something bright in the midst of all of that red.

Booth sat down in the middle of his living room floor and stared up at the ticking clock next to his television. This would be a very, very long night.

* * *

Temperance tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and her eyes squinted slightly from the sunlight that splashed through the windows of the diner. Her hand drummed lightly on the table and she glanced up at the clock again. It was nearly 9AM, and Booth still had not shown up.

She had tried phoning him several times, but only to hear the familiar voice recording that she knew so well. Realizing that she really needed to get to work, she pulled out two tattered dollar bills and set them on the counter for her coffee.

It wasn't like Booth to forget things like this; he was always there when he said he would. That is, unless he had a really good excuse. Unsure of what to think, she climbed into her car and drove a few minutes out of her way just to see if he was still at home.

Reaching Booth's home she couldn't find anything out of place. His car was not in its usual spot, so he must have left already. Brennan frowned slightly and started up her own vehicle again. All of a sudden, her phone chirped in her purse.

"Brennan" she answered, recognizing the number on the screen as her own office number.

"Bones, where the hell are you?" Booth said curtly. "It's after 9:00, and usually you're here at –"

"I've been waiting for you at the diner!" Brennan exclaimed, rolling her eyes out of frustration. "I'm in your driveway right now, I didn't know what was going on." She continued, waiting to hear his grand explanation.

But there was none. The line was silent for a painful moment. "I'm so sorry" Booth said quietly but emphatically. He couldn't believe he had forgotten about her. This was just unbelieveable…

"Why are you in my office?" she asked randomly, not responding to his apology, even though she understood he was stressed.

Booth mumbled something nearly incoherent, all Brennan could pick up were the words "The case".

"I'm on my way to the lab right now." Brennan said as she clicked her phone shut and tossed it over into her open purse. She shook her head and sped down the street, anxious to see what the lab had in store for them.

* * *

Booth was sitting in her office by the time Brennan got there. He had been lying down on her couch, and then instantly got up the moment she entered the room. He tried unsuccessfully to flatten down his hair and adjust his suit, but gave up as he stood to his feet.

"I completely forgot, I'm really sorry…" Booth started, trying to estimate Brennan's anger level. Booth truly had forgotten about their breakfast plan, he'd overslept once again and had left the house in a panic after getting an annoyed phone call from one of the receptionists at the Hoover Building.

"It's fine." She said, taking off her light fall jacket and replacing it with her lab coat. It was then that she raised her gaze to meet his own. "Booth, you look awful" she said with a frown.

"Yeah, I know. Listen, are you free for dinner? I want to make it up to you, and there's something I wanted to –"

"That sounds good. But it might be late because I'm so far behind today." She said, sorting through the masses of beige folders that lined her neat wooden desk.

"Yeah about that… we need to go."

"Go? Go where?" she asked, giving him her full attention.

As if on cue, Hodgins knocked lightly on Brennan's open door and presented her with the folder on the victim in the bathtub. "Motorized saw." He said triumphantly, as if those two words were the answer to all of the world's problems.

"Murder weapon?" Brennan asked, glancing at Booth slightly. Both of the men nodded and Hodgins pointed to one of the sheets of paper. "Cause of death was caused by something more linear, more like a butcher knife. But there were definitely indicators of scrapings congruent with a saw."

Brennan nodded and squinted down at the sheet. "Wasn't this Zach's task?" she asked, barely looking up at Hodgins.

"Bone dust, baby." He replied. "We can determine if the dismemberment took place in that tub because the bone dust will be present in the bathroom fan's vent. There should be one right on the ceiling."

Brennan looked over at Booth appraisingly, knowing that going back to that house was not going to sit well with him. She looked at him quizzically, wondering if he was going to be alright with going back there again. Booth's eyes, however, were nearly blank.

"Let's go." He said gruffly, motioning at the door.

* * *

The stairs of the house creaked slightly as they made their way up to the master bathroom. The house had been cleared several days ago, so there were only two or three officers still on site. Booth recognized one of them as Officer Cortez, who had been there the first day they had investigated the scene.

Booth hated this house, but what he hated more was having to be in there with Bones. He climbed each stair and gritted his teeth slightly, peering around suspiciously. Brennan could sense his discomfort, and uncharacteristically put her hand on his arm. They both stopped walking and stared at each other for a moment, the silent message between them louder than any other form of communication could be.

Brennan motioned her head towards the bedroom door and he opened it, revealing the setting of so many of his sleepless nights. Taking a deep breath, he entered the bedroom suite and took in all of his surroundings.

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan." One of the officers greeted from behind them. The officer had been informed of the purpose of the partners' trip, and carried a small but sturdy looking step ladder.

The three of them walked into the bathroom and looked up at the ceiling. Booth shuddered slightly at the piercing autumn breeze coming through the open window. On the window sill was a tiny vase with a little daisy inside of it.

A daisy.

Booth tore his eyes away from the window and clenched them shut for a moment. _Get a hold of yourself…_ he yelled internally. He swore that his crazy dreams couldn't affect his work anymore, and there was no way he was going to let it. They were here to get a sample of the bone dust, and then get back to the Jeffersonian. That was it.

"Just lay it down right here." Brennan instructed, her eyes never parting from the square vent on the ceiling of the bathroom.

The officer complied and reached out his hand to help Brennan steady herself on the tiny step ladder. She glanced down at his hand curiously and then stood up on the ladder by herself. Despite of the mental war going on in Booth's mind, he couldn't help but smirk at her constant independence.

"Booth, hand me a screwdriver from my kit." She said slowly, inspecting the outer ridges of the vent.

Booth reached into her kit and retrieved the small tool. "Do you want me to do that?" he asked, knowing that the answer would be a definite no. Brennan liked things a certain way, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't at least try to be useful.

Brennan didn't answer him, but instead began to work on one of the four screws on the vent. The two men watched her work for a few minutes, until they heard Officer Cortez yell from the other room.

"Booth, come here." Booth immediately went on high alert and he motioned for the other officer to follow. He didn't want to leave Brennan alone in that bathroom, but knew that he'd just be in the other room, and it was possible that Cortez had discovered something crucial to the case.

Booth and the other officer reached Cortez within seconds and glanced down at shattered glass on the other side of the bedroom doors, near the stairs.

"Was this here when you got here?" he asked.

"No, that has to be new." Booth said mechanically, mentally going through the details of what the house had looked like when they arrived.

Cortez opened his mouth to speak when they heard a loud crash from the bathroom. Booth's heart surged as he heard Brennan's strained voice.

"Suspect on site! Suspect on site!" she shouted, her voice straining due to obvious physical struggle. All of the officers bolted into the bedroom following Booth who had ripped out his gun and started running the moment he heard the crash.

Booth watched in disbelief and horror as the glass bathroom door slammed shut just before he could get in there. Through the frosted pane, Booth could barely make out the outline of Brennan's body which was pressed up against the front of the intruder. His arm was around her neck and the teasing sunlight from the window sparkled upon the blade of his weapon.

_No, no, no, no, no…._

* * *

**Yikes! Sorry about the cliffhanger, guys… you know how I love '****em!**

**I'm writing more the moment I post this, so you won't have to wait very long at all if you still want more:) I'd love to know what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**: Here's the next chapter! It's been ready for a bit, but I'm having some ongoing internet issues so that's why it took longer than I'd hoped. I hope you like it, and there's definitely tons more to come if you're still interested! Thank you so incredibly much for your reviews, each one of them means so much to me!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bones, just this storyline.

**Previously**: _"Sus__pect on site! Suspect on site!"  
__Booth watched in disbelief and horror as the glass bathroom door slammed shut just before he could get in there. Through the frosted pane, Booth could barely make out the outline of Brennan's body which was pressed up against the front of the intruder. His arm was around her neck and the teasing sunlight from the window sparkled upon the blade of his weapon.  
__No, no, no, no, no…._

**CHAPTER SIX**

There is a fine line between imagination and premonition. Did Booth know this would happen? Was it a coincidence? Was this even real?

There was nothing imaginative about the man in the bathroom with a knife to his partner's throat. He had yanked her hair back painfully so that her eyes had to struggle to see the events that were transpiring on the other side of the door. Brennan's hands were gripping the wrist of the intruder, trying desperately to prevent the slick blade from coming into contact with her vulnerable throat.

A step ladder lay strewn on its side on the tile floor, the contents of the forensic kit was kicked near the window, and a tiny daisy lay on the ground surrounded by a tiny puddle and shards of glass which were once a vase.

Booth had no time to stop and realize the severity of this predicament, he just knew that he needed to get on the other side of that door and kill that man with his own bare hands. His ears began to buzz with adrenaline and he could feel cold sweat begin to form on the back of his neck. An overwhelming sense of nausea came over him, but he pushed it out of his mind to focus on saving his partner.

With his gun still drawn, Booth took a giant step and reached for the door handle. Instantly he felt the hands of several of the other officers gripping him from behind; they knew full well that it was too dangerous for both Brennan and Booth for him to just barge in there and try to shoot him.

"Booth! Don't!" a muffled voice from the other side of the door rang out. Brennan was able to see what he attempted to do, and she instantly felt the intruder tighten his grip. Her voice had echoed eerily off of the bathroom walls, and she knew that he had heard her.

The frosty, clouded glass prevented Brennan from seeing fully what was going on, but she could sense that a great commotion had begun on the outside. Booth was yelling at the other officers to call for back up, and delegating muffled tasks that she couldn't quite make out.

"What do you want?" Brennan managed, feeling her throat crush slightly from beneath his grip.

"I want her back. I want Sarah back." The man sputtered, his eyes never moving from the glass door.

Brennan's mind was racing. Who was Sarah? She needed to calm this man down, and Booth's incessant yelling at the other agents wasn't going to do the trick.

"Is she your wife?" Brennan gasped, trying her best to attempt conversation.

"You took something from me, and I want it back. Now shut up." The man hissed, backing himself and Brennan up further away from the door. Brennan determined it was too risky to try to get away; the brute force of this man would likely overcome her skill. Besides, he was at a much better angle.

Brennan squinted as she saw two large hands press up against the glass door and then heard Booth's voice.

"Bones!" he called, and even through the door Brennan could hear the panic in his voice. He was still holding his gun and it clanked against the glass as he strained to see her. "Temperance, just stay calm. I'm coming."

Brennan took in a breath to answer him, but was startled when the intruder put his free hand over her mouth. She winced as she tried to take in a breath through her nose; it was so hard to get a deep breath with him clutching her so hard.

Booth knew she was alive, but was by no means satisfied by her lack of communication. "What do you want?" Booth forcefully called out to the man.

She could feel the intruder's heart begin to beat faster and faster, and the smell of his rotten breath permeated through her nose. He remained silent.

Brennan closed her eyes as she heard the tune of the wailing sirens sing through the tiny open window behind them. She heard the car doors open and slam, and the jingling of their equipment as they ran towards the front door of the house.

Booth kicked at the door. "I will shoot." He shouted, knowing full well that there was no way he could do so. The thickness of the glass would undoubtedly alter the path of the bullet, making it much too risky.

"Go ahead." The man yelled back. "You took her away from me, and now I'm taking this one away from you." The man cried out, his voice breaking with his increased emotion.

Booth turned around to the other agents who were watching the events intently. Their weapons were drawn, and two of them were sending messages out to call in even more back up. They needed to take this man down.

Booth clenched his eyes shut and forced his hands to remain still. It was as if all of his training with regard to their stressful working environment had led up to this very moment. He was physically and mentally exhausted, but knew that he was his partner's only hope.

Unintentionally, the other agents had given Booth an idea. He whipped out his cell phone and pressed it up to his ear, praying that the other side would pick up.

On the other side of the glass, Brennan's eyes flew open as she heard her cell phone chirp from within her pocket. She knew it had to be Booth. The intruder didn't move for a moment, instead he stood there quietly as if weighing his odds.

Slowly but steadily the man removed his large, sweaty hand away from Brennan's mouth and made its way down to her pocket. Brennan didn't move as she felt the man feel around the side of her body, his hand sending sickly shivers up her spine. Finally he located the phone.

The man flipped open the phone and waited for the other line to respond.

"Who am I talking to?" Booth answered steadily. Brennan's eyes closed in relief. The phone was located so close to the intruder that she could also hear her partner's voice.

That voice was going to be her lifeline; it was her _connection_ to the other side of the glass.

* * *

**Ahh what do you think? I know it's shorter, but I figured I'd at least post what I had! The next part will come up really soon, I swear I'm addicted to this… haha**

**Please let me know what you think! I'm so inspired by you guys!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**: YIKES! Guys I apologize for the temporary hiatus of this story. I am in the midst of some pretty brutal midterms, so sadly I haven't had any time at all for writing. I hope this chapter will make it up to you! Thank you so incredibly much to everyone who has been reading and/or reviewing this story. Oh, and this chapter goes out to the lovely MissBennet for PM-ing me and getting this chapter rolling along! I think I needed that little push out of my studying-induced coma!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bones, just this storyline.

**Previously**: _The intruder flipped open the phone and waited for the other line to respond._

_"Who am I talking to?" Booth answered steadily. Brennan's eyes closed in relief. The phone was located so close to the intruder that she, too could hear her partner's voice._

_That voice was going to be her lifeline; it was her connection to the other side of the glass_.

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"Who am I talking to?" Booth repeated into the cell phone, not moving from his position on the other side of the door.

"You took her, you took her, you took her…" the man began, his distressed voice escalating in pitch until he began to wail.

This caused Brennan to clench her eyes shut and kept her mind focused on the man's hand against her throat. "_Come on Booth…"_ she thought to herself. If there was anything they didn't need now, it was for the intruder to finally snap. He was clearly unstable, and on the verge of tears.

Booth clenched his jaw and inhaled steadily. If he couldn't keep himself calm, then there was no way this man was going to do the same. "You have to calm down, you just have to breathe with me…" he said forcefully into the phone, but as tenderly as he could manage given the circumstance. The last thing Booth wanted to do was push this man over the edge.

Brennan silently praised Booth as she felt the man's ragged breath slow lightly, but never did he loosen his death grip on her body.

"What is your name?" Booth tried again.

"Alex" the man said breathily, after a moment of tense silence.

"Okay Alex, my name is Seeley. Would you please let my partner come out now? Then you and I can sit down and I promise I'll help you find whoever you're missing…" Booth began, stepping an inch closer to the door and praying for a miracle. He would do anything to trade places with Brennan at that very moment. She must be terrified…

The man never answered Booth's offer, instead he vehemently shook his head which caused the knife to slip slightly, drawing a speckle of blood on Brennan's vulnerable neck. She bit back a whimper, knowing that the sound would likely drive Booth mad.

Brennan summoned up the strength that had been building up inside of her and she opened her mouth to speak. "Alex" she whispered, sensing as the man's attention shifted from the phone to his hostage's voice. "Is Sara your wife?" she tried, still griping his arms tightly in an attempt to loosen his grip.

Booth could hear the slight tremble in his partner's voice, but immediately was drawn to her line of thought. It was if Brennan knew what was going on, and was trying to inform Booth somehow.

Brennan gathered from the man's tangible silence that she was correct in her assumption. "Is Sara dead, Alex?" she asked quietly, her eyes straining to reach his angst-contorted face.

"Shut up!" the man screamed viciously, tightening his grip and accidently drawing more blood from just below her chin.

"Alex! Alex!" Booth called into the phone, but was quickly left yelling at the dial tone. Booth could hear muffled, tense voices coming from inside the bathroom but he had no idea what was going on. This terrified Booth.

Booth swore and felt moisture come to his eyes. This was just becoming too much. If it had been any other case, he would have been able to maintain his professionalism and think systematically. But this was not a regular case. _This_ was the case that had haunted his dreams for nearly a month. _This_ was the case that could end his partner's life and, consequently, his own. He let out a shuddered breath and then sensed an agent approaching him from behind.

"Booth, we've closed off the street and we're attempting to locate a safe vantage point for a shot."

Booth nodded, trying his best to stay calm. He needed to pretend that it wasn't Bones on the other side of that glass with a knife to her throat. No, he needed to picture Bones in the lab… she was sitting in her office, she was peering over a microscope, she was taking a secret nap on her couch… she was anywhere but here.

Just then Booth's cell phone chirped in his pocket. It was not the intruder again, but it was the next best thing.

"Booth" he answered.

"Agent Booth, this is Zach. I need to speak to Dr. Brennan. Her phone seems to be turned off." Zach rambled. He always felt nervous when it came to speaking with his teacher's partner.

Booth quickly considered filling the squint in, but he knew he didn't have the time to spare. "Tell me what you were going to tell her." Booth said evenly.

"We've identified the victim as Sara Crawford. Twenty-eight year old female."

Booth felt a gnawing sensation fill his entire being; all of a sudden everything became crystal clear. Alex must have kept Sara's body in the house for all of those months, but why? Whatever his reasons, this man was seriously disturbed.

"Good work, Zach" Booth said as he clicked his phone shut and ran a hand through his short hair. The sweat from his forehead beaded delicately on his temples, and he wiped at them agitatedly. The man on the other side of that glass partition was maddened by his grief at his wife's death. On some level, Booth nearly felt sympathy for him. That, of course, was before he heard his partner's anxious voice from the other side of the door.

"Booth!" she called, desperation gnawing into her usually calm, cool voice. Booth heard the sound of shuffling feet and he walked leapt towards the door.

"Bones, I'm here." Booth called back. _I'm here, I'm here, __I'm__ here…_ The desperation in Booth's thought process reminded him of Alex's earlier outburst. Were these two men the same? Both were driven over the edge, both couldn't let go of their partner.

The difference between the men existed in the knowledge that Booth could _never_ let go of Brennan. He would never live to see her rotting away in a bathtub, each day deteriorating in front of his very eyes. Brennan had to live through this, Brennan was stronger than that…

Booth punched the door frame out of frustration and whirled around to see all of the agents cease in their duties and eye him curiously. It was time for Booth to take control of this situation.

"You." Booth said, pointing directly at one of the officers. "Get Dr. Camille Saroyan on the phone and explain to her what's going on. She needs to tell her team; they deserve to know what's going on." He ordered curtly as he pulled his gun out of his holster and loaded it.

Gun in hand, Booth walked towards the stairs of the house and headed down to the main floor. He hated to leave Brennan up there without him within earshot, but this was just the way it had to be.

"Agent Booth, where are you going?" One of the agents called down after him.

"I'm gonna take this son of a bitch down."

* * *

_**TBC!**_

_****____**What did you think? **__**Wanna**__** make a stressed out student really happy? **_

___**I think you know what I want…**__** well, other than my very own Booth… ;)**__****_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N**: Hey guys, here is the last chapter! I apologize for taking so long to post this – I was unsure of where to end this, but I've left it rather open-ended as you'll soon see. I really hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

Thank you SO much for reading, and especially those who have reviewed! Your words seriously keep me writing, and for that I am so grateful.

And with that, here is the last chapter of _Connection_!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bones, just this storyline.

**Previously**:  
_Gun in hand, Booth walked towards the stairs of the house and headed down to the main floor. He hated to leave Brennan up there without him within earshot, but this was just the way it had to be._

_"Agent Booth, where are you going?" One of the agents called down after him. _

_"I'm __gonna__ take this son of a bitch down."_

* * *

**CHAPTER ****EIGHT**

With his gun drawn safely at his right side, Booth weaved through the multitude of agents and police who had gathered on the main floor of the house. He could feel their eyes staring at him sympathetically, but he refused to look at them. Booth had a mission, and he refused to lose his focus.

Finally making it to the front door, Booth scanned the lawn and the modest houses across the street for agents. He knew that there was a sniper in position across the street, but Booth couldn't trust anyone but himself with the shot.

Racing around the side of the house Booth located a slightly rusted step ladder, which likely had been as forgotten as the victim in the tub. Snatching it up, he set up the ladder near the garage; the ledge of which was close to the tiny tormenting bathroom window.

The gentle afternoon sun did nothing to take the crispness of the autumn breeze. Taking in a deep breath of air to calm his thoughts, Booth tucked his weapon into his pants and climbed up on the stepladder.

"Booth! What the hell are you doing?" An agent called, jogging toward the desperate man teetering on the ladder.

Booth shot the man a look that immediately silenced him. Sticking his hand out to signal the need for their silence, he proceeded to hoist himself up precariously on to the roof of the garage.

Praying that the shingles would not give way, he crawled towards the edge of the garage roof where the bathroom window's curtains blew out tauntingly from inside. It was then that he heard the slightly muffled voices in the room.

"We didn't mean to take anyone, Alex." Brennan said, the calmness in her voice struck Booth reassuringly.

"You took her… you took her… you took her…" Alex murmured over and over.

"Alex, was Sara in the bathtub?" She asked, her voice wavering. Brennan knew that she was dangerously close to pushing this man over the edge. If she could locate the source of his anger, perhaps she could calm and reason with him. Or, so she thought.

Booth tightened his jaw in anticipation of Alex's response. He positioned himself closer to the window, ready to face the window and take the shot if he reacted violently.

"I didn't mean to hurt her… I didn't know what I was doing… she was alive, and then I remember her blood… it was everywhere…" Alex whispered, causing Booth to have to strain to hear.

The man had just confessed to his wife's murder.

Brennan was silent for a moment, processing the heartbreaking confession that he had just made. "Why did you keep her here, Alex?" she asked, her voice constricting as he tightened his fierce grip on her body.

"I couldn't let her go. We were going to be together for always… and always…"

Booth cringed. This man had been so overcome in his grief that he'd left his wife's corpse in a tub to rot? This man had lived his life day to day with the knowledge that she was still up there. The smell of decomposition, the bodily fluids…

"Alex, you killed your wife. We needed to take her body so that she could be identified and buried properly." Brennan whispered, her voice quaking as Alex's lips curled up angrily, exposing his teeth. He quickly pressed the knife up closer to her neck, and she knew that if she moved an inch it would be all over.

"Please let me go. You don't need to do this…" she continued, her breath hitching. "My partner… Booth…. he said that he could help you… you just have to let me out of here."

Booth couldn't take any more of this. He silently crawled to the right and peered into the window for the first time as he removed the gun from his pocket. He ignored the commotion that was beginning on the ground; instead he was completely focused on the scene in front of him.

Both Brennan and Alex were faced away from him so he could only see their backs. The contents of Brennan's forensic kit lay scattered on the floor along with the screwdriver and air vent: evidence of their previous struggle. Brennan was favoring her right ankle and her body weight was pressed into her captor's left side.

"Please don't do this. Please." Brennan hissed, her pitch rising slightly at her last plea.

_And then there was a bang. _

The marriage of the blinding light and deafening blast forced Seeley Booth's world to a halt. The bullet had pierced straight through the man's right shoulder and had continued through to lodge itself in the glass door with a resounding crack. The glass did not shatter, but a spider web design of broken glass appeared around the lodged bullet like frost on a window pane.

He watched as they both crumpled to the ground, Alex's body trapping Brennan's. Booth tossed his gun inside the bathroom and then squeezed himself painfully through the window. He slid on his knees and wrenched Alex's unconscious, bloody body off of Brennan.

"Bones! Temperance!" he pled, rolling her over and hovering his hands over her body, not wanting to hurt her. Alex's blood had splashed and covered much of Brennan's clothing, but fortunately the bullet had not even grazed her. There were multiple seeping cuts on her bruising neck, and her ankle was twisted in an unnatural position. But she was _alive_.

Her tearful eyes fluttered open and she took in a ragged breath, "Booth" was all she could manage to say.

Booth wrapped his two arms around the back of her neck and torso, pulling her into a hug. She was too shaken up to hold onto his body as well, but she buried her face in his neck and tried to steady her breathing. Booth tightened his grip, though he didn't want to hurt her. It was as if he couldn't get close enough to her, he was afraid that he would wake up in his bed and she would be gone.

Booth raked his fingers through her tangled, sweaty hair and gently rocked her back and forth. As if not just trying to calm just her, but trying to calm himself too.

The door to the bathroom burst open and the agents halted slightly at the scene in front of them. Tiny glass shards crunched under their shoes as they entered the room, like walking on ice cubes.

"He's breathing." One agent said, crouching down beside Alex's bleeding and unconscious form. "We need meds now!" he ordered.

"She needs medical attention." Booth managed, motioning to his partner.

"We're on it." The agent nodded curtly. "Nice shot, Booth."

Brennan gently moved her body away from Booth's embrace to assess the reality around her. Booth could feel her tense slightly in his arms as she was made aware of their close proximity and the number of agents around them.

"I'm fine, Booth." she said trying to sit up.

Booth hushed her, "Bones, you're not fine. Just relax okay?"

She tried to sit up further, but then sucked in a sharp breath at the pain that shot up her leg.

"Whoa, whoa take it easy." Booth said, encouraging Brennan to rest her body weight against his chest.

"My ankle… when he came in, I fell" she said, as if explaining it to herself rather than Booth. She gently caressed her sore neck and winced at the feeling.

Booth sighed and pulled her closer, wondering what the hell was taking the paramedics so long to get up the stairs. He rested his head on top of her own and closed his eyes.

"Thanks." She murmured into his jacket.

Booth opened his mouth to reply, but found himself at a loss for words; pure emotion surged through his veins and he impulsively kissed the top of his partner's head.

This was not a dream. This was not a premonition. This was reality.

* * *

HOURS LATER

Angela walked purposefully through the sterile halls of the hospital trying her very best not to spill the murky coffee which was contained in two Styrofoam cups. Her unzipped sweater barely rested on her shoulders and her hair was tied into a messy bun. She and Booth had been waiting at the hospital for Brennan for what had seemed to have been hours. Though her injuries could have been tremendously worse, Brennan had received a bimalleolar fracture to her ankle and multiple lacerations to her throat.

Turning the corner, Angela eyed Booth as he sank lower into the confines of the uncomfortable chair. They'd been sitting earlier that evening mostly in reflective silence, but she knew that there were questions she needed to ask.

"Here" Angela said with a kind smile as she handed one of the coffees to Booth. He looked at her gratefully and took a sip. After sitting down and crossing her right leg, Angela let her head rest back against the white wall.

"I asked at the Nurse's Station… they said the ER was busy today, but she won't be much longer. They're just finishing up the cast." Booth said into his coffee cup.

Angela nodded. She took a deep breath and decided that this time was as good as any.

"Booth, you knew this would happen."

Booth took the cup away from his mouth and stared at the floor. He wanted to negate her comment, but he knew in his heart that he agreed with her. It wasn't really that he _knew_ this exact situation would occur; it was more that he knew Brennan would be in danger.

"You're right. It's my fault. If I'd had her pulled from the field, then –"

Angela shook her head. "No, no Booth. That's not what I meant. Your predicted this through your dreams. There's no way anything is your fault. You saved Bren's life." She said emphatically.

"I don't know if I believe in premonitions…" Booth said thoughtfully.

"I don't think you have to believe in premonitions to understand what happened today. The connection you have with Brennan led you to feel that she would be in danger and you did everything to stop that from happening. You don't have to believe in psychics or magic to believe in that."

Booth nodded in agreement and took another sip of his coffee. Silence passed for a few minutes as they both silently observed the interesting people around them. There were both old and young people scattered through the waiting room – each of them yearning for the news of their ailing friend or family member.

While Angela watched the people around her, Booth's mind couldn't stop replaying the moments of that afternoon over and over again in his head. If that window had been properly secured, the intruder would never have been there. If Booth had gone up on that ladder to retrieve the vent instead, Brennan wouldn't have a broken ankle. If that bullet had been millimeters off, it would have clipped his partner's shoulder as well.

If, if, if…

There was one thought, however, that Booth couldn't repress. What if this happened _again_? Even if the dreams that had been haunting him for weeks disappeared, what would happen months down the road the same thing began to happen? What if he woke up in a sweat a night months from now, dreaming that his partner was in a new dangerous or lethal situation?

Angela looked over at Booth and could nearly see the varying stages of emotion play across his face as he sat deep in thought. She impulsively put a hand on his forearm and brought his attention back to the real world.

"Did you tell her about the dreams?" Angela asked quietly. She knew Booth had agreed to tell Brennan, but the attack had occurred so close to their conversation that she couldn't be sure.

"No." Booth said simply.

Angela nodded her head and stared at the floor. If she were in Booth's position, the first thing she would have done was tell Brennan. However, she was definitely not Booth.

"I might sometime, but maybe it's better if she doesn't know. All I want is for her to be safe."

"I know, Booth. I know."

* * *

Meanwhile, Brennan lay on the flattened mattress of a hospital bed and peered down at her fat ankle curiously. A thick white cast had been applied and, thankfully, had nearly set. Several bandages had been placed on her neck, but unfortunately many bruises were beginning to become more obvious on her white skin.

Becoming very tired of waiting, she reached up and felt around for her medical chart. She flipped it open and reviewed its contents, knowing that it would only satisfy her impatience for a few minutes. It was then that she heard footsteps outside her door and a slight jiggling of the doorknob.

Before the door even opened, Brennan knew that it was going to be Booth who would walk through that door. Though she'd really wanted to see him for hours, now that the time had arrived she was slightly nervous. She didn't want him to have to worry anymore, not to mention have to see her looking like this. In any case, she pushed these thoughts from her mind as Booth walked into the small room.

"Hey" Brennan greeted, as if everything were completely normal.

"Bones…" Booth began, not really knowing what to say. He took several slow steps toward her bed and let his eyes roam her entire body.

"It looks a lot worse than it is." Brennan supplied, answering his silent question. "If it hadn't been for you I'd be dead right now." She said bluntly.

"Don't say that." Booth breathed, taking a seat on a vacant part of her bed.

"Alex… is he?" Brennan asked, wondering if the troubled killer had died from Booth's bullet.

"He's still in the OR, but the doctor said that he'll probably pull through. We've got three agents waiting for him when he gets out of surgery."

Brennan nodded, unsure whether or not to be disappointed or relieved. Part of her was thankful that the man who tried to kill her wasn't dead since he needed to suffer the justice of his murderous acts, as well as the pain he had inflicted on her today.

"Angela will be in here any minute. She wanted to call the rest of the squints to tell them… well, you know."

"I'm sorry I scared you today."

Booth shook his head. "I'm so happy you're safe" he said simply.

Tenderly, he grasped her hand in his own. Their hands were barely touching, but the warmth radiated from her hand to his palm. They sat like that for a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of their connected hands.

They lived in a world of danger. A world where husbands would kill their own wives, a world where bodies were forgotten and left to rot, a world where instant changes can alter lives forever.

But most of all, they lived in a world where emotional connectedness was the driving force towards safety and stability. For it is only when you have a hand to hold through the darkness and fear that you can really appreciate life outside the nightmares.

* * *

**THE END**

_I'd love to know what you think! Thanks for reading, everyone:)_


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